How They Met Alice (BBC Sherlock Fanfiction)

Chapter 75

(ONE MONTH LATER, Third-Person POV: )

John was at a NatWest cashpoint machine on some street. Alice had ordered him to go get milk cos she ‘needed to delete trees.’ Apparently each tree had a ‘tap’ of information. John still didn’t understand.

He inserted his card. Typing in his PIN, he then selected a transaction. After a few seconds he was greeted with the onscreen message.

“There is a problem with…

your card…

Please wait…”

John grimaced and a second later a new message appeared:

“Thank you for…

your patience.” A moment later the message added:

“John.” John frowned, and behind him a black car pulled up to the curb and stopped. John turned and looked at it, then turned back to the ATM, sighing in exasperation. However, he still hadn’t learned his lesson about getting into strange cars and apparently meekly got in and allowed himself to be driven to an elegant white painted building. It had a brass plaque outside, declaring the venue to be ‘THE DIOGENES CLUB’.

He went inside and entered a large room, which – back when the building used to be a house – was probably a drawing room. A large marble fireplace surrounded an unlit fire and the walls had heavy wooden panelling and ornate white plaster coving. The room contained five small round tables, each with a single armchair beside it, and four of them were currently occupied by smartly dressed middle aged or elderly gentlemen reading newspapers and taking no notice of each other or of the new arrival.

John looked around and then walked over to one of the older men sitting at the far end of the room.

“Er, excuse me. Um, I’m looking for Mycroft Holmes.” He began awkwardly. The old man’s face became appalled but he didn’t look up. “Would you happen to know if he’s around at all?” John continued. Some of the other inhabitants of the room behind John looked round at him but didn’t speak. “Can you not hear me?” John asked sceptically. The old man looked up at him, huffing indignantly. John held out a placatory hand to him. “Yes, all right.” He said, turning around to the others in the room. “Anyone?” John sighed. The others turned their faces away from him. “Anyone at all know where Mycroft Holmes is? I’ve been asked to meet him here.” John continued, getting tired of the act. The old man lifted his walking stick and pushed the end of it repeatedly onto a button on the nearby wall. A distant bell rang. John looked around in confusion as the gentlemen either ignored him or looked at him in annoyance. “No takers? Right.” He was annoyed. He raised his voice. “Am I invisible? Can you actually see me?” He demanded. Just then two men wearing dress coats walked into the room. John turned to them. “Ah, thanks, gents.” He thanked, sound relieved. Behind him, the elderly gentleman flapped his hand frantically at the new arrivals as if to say, ‘Get him out of here!’ The dress coated men, wearing white gloves and soft white overshoes to muffle their footsteps, walked briskly over to John. “I’ve been asked to meet Mycroft Holm...” John began, but he broke off as the men walked to either side of him and seized his arms firmly. “What the...? Hey!” He cried. As they almost lifted him off his feet, one of them put his other hand over John’s mouth to silence him. His muffled protests continued as they rapidly bundled him out of the room.

Shortly afterwards John had been taken to a smaller room and the door had been closed firmly behind him. Mycroft was in the room with him and poured himself a drink from a crystal decanter.